Month: July 2014

Flying solo

I had three diary malfunctions this week. None as spectacularly catastpophic as Jannet Jackson’s super-bowl experience some years ago, but only because they were in front of a much smaller audience.

The first related to a presentation I was due to give next week which I had completely forgotten. I received an email on Thursday reminding me of the time and place. Yes, I replied, I’m all prepared for that one, and scheduled a couple of hours during the weekend to pull it together.

The second related to the screening of a new film, for which I was an interested audience member, but luckily nothing more. I turned up two hours late. Woops!

The third was more embarrassing. I received a text at 2,40 PM asking if I was still available for the 2,30 coffee we had arranged. Unfortunately I was on the other side of the city in a different appointment. Super Woops! Several grovelling appologies and a promise to buy the coffee next time later I had regained a little self esteem. You are probably reading this, and I am still very embarrassed. This is not what I usually do.

I’m finding it difficult to nagivate both to and inside my new temporary office at the Australian Law Reform Commission. Whoever designed the MLC Centre in that octagonal shape, with a multi-entranced and noisy food court as the main access to the building, and no labels on lift buttons or announcements in lifts, wasn’t thinking about the challenges it presents to guide dog users.

It’s a little more of an issue booking my own travel, and doing all of those really important tasks which my Executive Assistants at the Commission seemed to do so imperturbably and efficiently.

And – inevitably – I’m experienceing a small dose of relevance deprivation syndrome since I finished my term as Disability Discrimination Commissioner.

All challenges of operating differently, and flying solo.

But then I went back to that well-known aphorism- it’s not the problem that’s the problem, it’s your attitude to the problem that’s the problem. And I considered the bigger picture.

Despite the view of the Attorney-General that disability discrimination was diminishing, so we only need a part-time Commissioner, not much has changed. There is still no jobs plan for people with disabilities.
We are still refused airline travel if we happen to be the third person who turns up for a flight using a wheelchair.
Gaols are still viewed as an appropriate accommodation option for people with intellectual and psycho-social disability. Fifi thinks its ok to fake a disability, and then laugh about it on radio. And there is still no audio description on the ABC.

To use Stephen King’s well-known phrase “same shit, different day.”

So I just need to get over the challenges of flying solo, and get on with what I promised myself I would do. Keep working to improve the quality of life of Australians with disabilities.
I’ll play a leadership role at the Law Reform Commission, assisting to complete the disability and capacity inquiry, and improve the decision-making processes for people with disabilities.
http://www.alrc.gov.au I’ll contribute, through the board of Life Without Barriers, to improving the quality of life of kids in out-of-home care, asylum seekers, Aboriginal people and people with disabilities. http://www.lifewithoutbarriers.org.au I’ll contribute through the board of the Attitude Foundation to changing the way people with disabilities are viewed in the media- because changing attitudes changes lives. http://www.attitude.org.au I’ll just do it from a different place. And learn to fly solo.

Ending the Blind Curfew

Last week Brisbane City Council advised that all audible traffic signals would operate 24 hours a day seven days a week, ending the curfew for people who are blind or have low vision in Brisbane which has applied for more than fifteen years. Previously, many signals were turned off at 9:30 at night, and back on at 6:30 in the morning.

I concgratulate Brisbane City Council for this decision. It is a triumph of committed people over bad policy.

I visited Brisbane to attend a conference several months ago. I was planning where I should have dinner, and someone commented that I would need to start dinner early, as I would have to be home by 9:30 at night. Being unused to having a curfew, I questioned this. It’s because the audible traffic signals are turned off at that time, I was told. I could not believe it!

As it happened, I was unusually well behaved at dinner that night, and I was home before 9:30. But the next morning I took my guide dog out for an early walk- prior to 6 AM. And as advised, there were no audible traffic signals to let me know when I could cross the road. I was a prisoner of the Brisbane City Council policy.

I did some research, and found that this policy had been in place for more than fifteen years. This was due to a councillor who had once been kept awake by similar signals in New Zealand. I knew, however, that the volume of such signals was controlled by a monitoring microphone, so that when traffic and other noise was quiet, as it often is in the middle of the night, the signals are quiet as well. So this equipment had not been working in New Zealand all of those years ago, or he had only had a small travel budget, and managed it by sleeping on the footpath next to the light pole.

I was so outraged that people who were blind or had low vision in Brisbane could be so disadvantaged by the ill-informed whim of a policy maker with insomnia that I talked to a journalist about it. She thought it would make an excellent story, and the rest – as they say – is history.

The media ran with the story, and I did interviews across the country. The policy was made to look silly, and – after further consultation by council with relevant disability organisations- it was changed.

This story made me think about the language I had used. What seemed to concern council most was that I had referred to the policy as a “blind curfew”. I did so because that is how I had regarded it. But the reaction this received demonstrated the importance of the language which we use.

The Convention on the Rights of People with Disabilities seeks to shift the mind-set about us from objects of pity to subjects with rights, and from our disability being the barrier to the environment in which we live being the barrier. Thus, it was not that I could not see which prevented me from crossing the road, it was that there was no audible traffic signal to give me the same information which people who see received.

I was once counselled by a colleague for whom I have great respect not to refer to the policy – applied by most airlines in Australia – of only carrying two passengers who use wheelchairs as “wheelchair apartheid”. She was shocked by the use of apartheid in that way, because of its origin. Apartheid is the system of segregation or discrimination on grounds of race in force in South Africa from 1948-ia. It comes from the Afrikaans, and literally means separateness.

I thought very carefully about this advice, because I valued my colleague’s judgement highly. But I decided to continue to use the expression, because treating people with disabilities separately and differently is exactly what the “two wheelchair” policy does. This process confirmed the importance of describing such policies by their impact, and effectively “calling out” the policy-makers for what they had done to people with disabilities.

Perhaps it was the use of the term “blind curfew” which swayed the policy-makers, or caught their attention. I don’t know. But there is no doubt that good advocacy, and implementation of the disability convention, requires clarity on the barriers in our environment, and their effect.

What do you think? Should we describe such policies in this emotive way? Should we call a spade a spade?

Five Minute Flicks part two

You’ve gotta love a movie with an excellent story line which you can watch in five minutes! I have twenty of them for you. Here are the second five.

One of the activities I led whilst Australia’s Disability Discrimination Commissioner was the production of Twenty Years: Twenty Stories, to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the Disability Discrimination Act.

Watch these stories with me, because they show how the actions of the main characters changed their lives, and the lives of thousands of other Australians with disabilities. I’ll give you my review, then you can watch the movie.

Just The Ticket:

The excitement of the Sydney Olympic Games caught many people-
including Bruce. He wanted to share it with his kids, but the organising committee were not very accommodating.

http://www.humanrights.gov.au/twentystories/video-just-the-ticket .html

Jacobs Story:

Jacob wanted to learn the way he knew best- using his first language. Not an unreasonable request- but his school didn’t think so.

http://www.humanrights.gov.au/twentystories/video-jacobs-story.ht ml It’s My Life:

Geoff just wanted to make a phone call- his way. This is the story of how Geoff does things his way, and how organisations can change, and make that happen.

http://www.humanrights.gov.au/twentystories/video-my-life-my-call .html

Hot Tutti:

Music is the winner here, and the members of Tutti enjoy the spoils.

http://www.humanrights.gov.au/twentystories/video-hot-tutti.html

Access For All:

Maurice is a man who wants to do the ordinary things, like catching the bus, with everyone else. His determination wins through, for him and thousands of other Australians.

http://www.humanrights.gov.au/twentystories/video-access-for-all. html

Tune in for more movies in future blogs. Or if you just can’t wait, watch them all now.

Which ones are your favourites? Comments are very welcome.

Changing Attitudes Changes Lives

Dave changed his attitude, which changed my life. This is how it happened.

I roared out of the garage of Sydney University, and the College of Law, a shiny new lawyer. My social justice engine, fuelled by its knowledge of unfair dismissals and unconscionable contracts, was ready to drive people from the back roads of disadvantage onto the freeway of life.

Then reality kicked in. I spun my wheels for twelve months while I went to thirty job interviews. I didn’t get any of those jobs, mostly because employers could not comprehend how a blind person could work as a lawyer.

So that shiny new baby lawyer took a job as a Clerical Assistant, the first step in the NSW Public Service. I used to joke that I was the only clerical assistant in the NSW public service with a law degree.

My first job was answering the telephone, and telling people the winning lotto numbers. I was made redundant from that role by an answering machine.

After a short stint at the Land Titles office, I found a job in the Department of Consumer Affairs. Again I was answering the telephone, but at least I was providing advice to consumers. But I was still the only clerk with a law degree.

Then I met Dave. He was the Senior Legal Officer at the Department. We used to chat at the coffee machine, and at drinks in the pub across the road on a Friday night. I kept talking to him about how I wanted to be a lawyer, and how I would do the job if I could get it. He wasn’t absolutely convinced, but agreed to give me a try. Dave’s change of attitude changed my life.

I worked as a Clerk in Legal, and then as a Legal Officer. I contributed to the department’s work on bicycle helmet regulations, and the National Uniform Credit Code. I was there in a time of reform, when Sid Einfeld was the Minister for Consumer Affairs. I was living the dream.

Then the NSW Anti-Discrimination Act was amended to include disability as a ground of discrimination, and the President of the ADB, Carmel Niland, wanted someone with lived experience of disability, and some knowledge of the sector, as a conciliator. I had made it.

I made it because I was determined, and because Dave changed his attitude. He was definitely not convinced that a blind person could operate as a lawyer, but he decided to give it a tryPeople with disabilities in Australia are limited by the soft bigotry of low expectations. We don’t get appointed to jobs that we know we can do, because others think that we can’t. We are not offered the careers that we want, we are told what more limited careers we can have. We don’t do things because people assume – usually incorrectly – that we can’t.

I, and the Board of the Attitude Foundation in Australia, want to change those attitudes, because we know that changing attitudes changes lives. We will use film, television, media and the internet to change those attitudes.

You can work with us, and others like you, to change attitudes.

You can write the story of how attitudes changed, and be a guest blogger.

You can become a supporter, and recruit others to our cause.

You can contribute to Attitude Foundation Australia.

Go to http://www.attitude.org.au now, and let’s start changing lives today.

National Press Club speech

National Press Club address
Graeme Innes AM
Disability Discrimination Commissioner
Canberra, 2 July 2014

I acknowledge the traditional owners of this land. I do so not as a formulaic beginning, but as a sincere recognition of the place which the land holds in the lives and culture of our first Australians. I saw much of the disadvantage Aboriginal people experience during my time as Race Discrimination Commissioner, and fail to understand why – at a time when we are seeking to recognise them in our constitution – we would be changing laws to reduce their protection from the serious challenges of racial vilification.

I also acknowledge the Auslan interpreters around Australia who have signed most of my speeches for the last thirty years or so. I apologise to all of them, particularly Mandy, one of my favourites, for always promising to speak more slowly, but rarely delivering on that promise. She hasn’t carried out her threat to hit me yet, but its often been close.

I was blessed to grow up in a middle-class family, with christian ethics and values. I’m very pleased that my sister and brother are here today, and I know that my mum is watching. I gained from them the benefit of not being treated as different due to my disability, the recognition that disadvantage was real in our wealthy Australian society, and the strong will to challenge that disadvantage. That is why, when I began as Disability Commissioner and Human Rights Commissioner almost nine years ago leading the inquiry which led to the same sex same entitlements report was a no-brainer- why should we treat people differently simply because of who they loved.

At fourteen I knew I wanted to be a lawyer, because I understood that the law could reduce that disadvantage. I achieved that goal at twenty-two, and immediately experienced the reality of disadvantage. In a twelve month period I failed at thirty job interviews, mostly because employers could not understand how a blind person could work as a lawyer. Sadly, not much has changed.

Maureen, from whom I have been privileged to receive the gift of marriage for the past twenty-five years, is also here. She is my best mate, my greatest support, and my most constructive critic. Whilst not always sharing my politics, she has shared my ethics and values, and her encouragement and support have fuelled my will to succeed. She and my children have put up with my annoying ways, dad jokes, and frequent disappearances to pursue my career.

My children, Leon and Rachel, have constantly grounded me, and their view of me as a sometimes irritating and embarrassing dad has shown me their love, and made me a better Commissioner. These are the foundations on which my life and work journeys have been built.

I have never accepted the concept of “lifters” and “Leaners”, a Ming dynasty phrase which has lately gained currency. It’s such a facile concept. And we all move from one role to the other, dozens of times a day.

When I walk down the street with Maureen- and which ever street that is I couldn’t be happier- I’m a leaner. I’m gaining guidance from her by holding her arm. But when that guidance stops, and at the end of a long hard day for her, I put my arm around her in a supportive cuddle, I become a lifter.

I prefer a more positive, and less judgemental society, where everyone’s contribution is accepted and valued. I want entrances where everyone- not just people who use steps- can come in. I communicate with Auslan, so everyone – not just hearing people – can understand. This makes a more inclusive, and more sustainable society.

But many in society force people with disabilities to live within that leaner-lifter rubric. And we would be lifters, if there were not barriers in society which cause us to be leaners. I have challenged that rubric all my life, and will do so in this address.

Others demonise people with disabilities – or Disability Support Pension recipients – as slackers, shirkers and rorters. I also reject that, and will return to it later, with a solution in the form of a “jobs plan”..

So join me now on the past nine years of my life journey- yes, I’ve been a Commissioner for most of this century, and if you count the deputy role as well for all of it. Since Phillip Ruddock’s phone call to appoint me to this role, while I was buying the family fish and chips in December 2005. I vividly remember throwing my eight year old daughter high in the air, as I celebrated getting the best job I have ever had. Luckily, I caught her on the way down.

As I usually do, we’ll travel the path of assessing policy change through the stories of Australians with disabilities- Elliot, Judy and Amy. And sprinkled throughout will be references to such human rights icons as Cyndi Lauper, Dr Seus, and the Captain Matchbox Whoopee Band. I bet that’s the first time they’ve cracked a mention from the Press Club stage.

First Elliot. Elliot is a thirty-something tax accountant. He has worked for the same firm for eight years. He uses a wheelchair.

Let’s look at two days in Elliot’s life- in 2005 as he starts this job, and in 2014.

In 2005 Elliot lived with his parents, in a wheelchair friendly home in the suburbs. He wanted to live independently, but it was impossible to find a suitably accessible apartment, let alone one in his price range, near transport. He doesn’t drive, and buses in his area were among the more than 75 % not yet accessible.

Each morning, Elliot travelled in his wheelchair to the station. Stairs made the ticket office inaccessible, but he bought an annual pass, and entered the platform via an accessible gate. That works going in, but not coming home- coming home steps barred him from being on the right side of the tracks.

Lack of kerb cuts frequently prevented him from accessing a footpath or shop, and extended his journey to the office from 300m to 500m. He has to settle for bad coffee, as the good stuff, though close enough to smell, is up a step.

His employer made minor office adjustments, widening a corridor, and installing a height adjustable desk. A small ramp was needed for Elliot to wheel into the building, but the owner said it would look out of character. There were no mandatory requirements to provide access to buildings, unless a complaint was lodged under the Disability Discrimination Act. Elliot lodged his complaint, and a successful conciliation by the Human Rights Commission ensured access through the front door.

On this day in 2005, Elliot left the office early to fly to Melbourne to attend an evening seminar. Usually Elliot booked flights early, since most airlines only allow two wheelchair users per flight. But dates were changed the week before, so Elliot caught an earlier flight. This meant hanging around Melbourne for two hours before the seminar. Or maybe not, depending on whether his pre-booked accessible taxi turned up –
Like most places in Australia, demand for accessible taxis far outstripped supply.

The picture is clear. In 2005 Elliot, a well-educated, successful accountant, struggled to overcome basic accommodation and access barriers. Being a lifter was not impossible, but it was hard.

How about employment? Did Elliot face the challenges I did? Initially, he found it hard. Work force participation by people with disabilities in 1998, the year after his graduation, was 53,2 %, compared to 80,1 % for people without disabilities, ranking Australia third last among OECD countries. Eventually, he accepted a job with a firm run by a friend of his father’s, although his pay was 17 % less than the other five accountants, due to his inexperience, or so he was told…

Five years later, he landed his current position. We stay longer in jobs, take less sick leave, and claim less workers comp, but still we are under-employed.

In the mid 1990s 5,8 % of the Commonwealth government workforce were people with disabilities, but by 2005 that had fallen to 3,8 %.

Let’s fast forward to the present. The debate over the National Disability Insurance Scheme has moved disability more into mainstream conversation. Elliot now lives independently, in livable design housing, thanks to the Livable Housing Australia initiative. There isn’t much of it yet, but more than there was. And greater government and industry support needs to occur fast, if the aims of the NDIS are to be achieved. A voluntary model was agreed as a Rudd government initiative, but most of industry and government are still on their way to the party. As the current Deputy Chair, I plan to ensure that they arrive, and figuratively BYO.

Community support is starting to become available through the NDIS. I congratulate the Abbot government on continuation of the rollout in full and on time. It is providing people with disability with choice and control, and the capacity to move from leaners to lifters. And it must continue to roll out, if community participation is to become a reality. There have been some glitches around the edges, but the surveys of people with disabilities now on the scheme overwhelmingly indicate high satisfaction.

Building and footpath access have certainly improved. The Access To Premises Standards commenced in 2011, revised to meet the objectives of the DDA. Any new building, or existing building undergoing significant renovation, must comply. So Elliot now gets that great skinny latte, and has a shorter journey to work.

When he visits his parents, both sides of the railway station are now accessible. The Accessible Transport Standards, passed in 2002, are arguably the largest infrastructure change, and the biggest spend, in Australia’s history. And, as Cyndi Lauper says “Money changes everything.”

Accessible buses are well ahead of the timetables in the Transport Standards, although expensive rail and tram infrastructure is not keeping up across the country.

After dragging a recalcitrant Sydney Trains to the Federal Court, I now get told where I am on the train, and despite our worst fears, Maureen and I did not have to sell our house to pay the $800’000 Sydney Trains spent to defend its discriminatory stand. Why they didn’t just spend it on fixing the announcements remains one of life’s mysteries.

But the transport picture is not all rosy. Airlines, apart from Qantas, still practise wheelchair apartheid, with the two wheelchair policy. Whilst he may have starred on harmonica in such well-known classics as “My canary has circles under his eyes” by the Captain Match-box Whoopee Band, yes you remember them! Jim Conway learned recently that if you can’t move yourself from your wheelchair to your seat you can’t fly with Jetstar. Market forces have failed to deliver for people with disabilities in the budget airline industry. And despite loud calls for equal treatment by the disability sector and myself, government have failed to act. Regulation, similar to that in Europe, Canada and the US, is necessary to give us access to the skies.

In most States, apart from Queensland, you might wait 2-3 hours for a wheelchair accessible taxi, and people are regularly rejected from taxi travel because they use a guide or assistance dog, or have cream on their face due to their skin condition. We want to be lifters, but we have to lean, and wait til the taxi turns up, or the airline lets us onboard.

And whilst Elliot has a job, most of us do not, and 45% of us live in poverty, last among OECD countries. Government, far from leading the way in an area desperate for positive change, has only 2,9 % of its workforce as people with disabilities, when we make up 15% of the working age population. And while the recent budget makes welfare harder to get for us, re-assessing some disability support pensioners, there is no plan to get us off welfare and into work. Changes proposed just last weekend will place people with episodic disabilities on a different – probably lower – allowance, but there is still no effective jobs plan. Again, we are blocked from being lifters.

We need a jobs plan. We need to learn from the Westpacs, ANZ, Telstra and others, all the members of Australian Network on Disability – the employer representative body.

The Department of Health and Ageing – bucking the trend – are at 10 %, so it can be done. Westpac are at 13 %, so it can be done. We need to listen to employers, and meet there needs. We need to make it safer to venture off the DSP and into work. We need to offer every politician an extra staff member if they employ a person with a disability- as is done in the US. We need to give willing employers some KPI’s and some funding, and twelve months to see if they can meet their planned targets.

Because, apart from the benefits these actions would bring to people with disabilities, if only one-third of that disability-jobs gap moved off welfare and into work, the NDIS would run at a profit within a decade.

Many private employers are willing to commit to these processes. I have worked with many of them during my time in this role. But they need to learn from their peers, and be resourced to get on with it, not be surrounded by government red tape. Limiting rules and bureaucratic disincentives are, to paraphrase Missy Higgins, a danger government are addicted to. The various services contracted to find jobs for people with disabilities are not giving us value for money.

Let’s go back to 2005 with Judy – a fifty-something woman of no-fixed address. She spends some nights with her partner, but when the abuse and violence get too much she sleeps rough, or couch surfs. Judy has an intellectual disability. Like many with intellectual disabilities, she also experiences depression.

Judy is one of the 45 % of Australians with disabilities living in poverty. She would like a job, but like 19 % of people with intellectual disabilities, she cannot secure one.

Violence against women like Judy is hard to quantify in 2005. The ABS doesn’t disaggregate statistics on violence, women and disability. But we know that 90 % of women with intellectual disability experience sexual assault at some time during their lives. We know that if Judy reports the violence, the justice system will deal with it inadequately. And we know that a higher than average proportion of the population with intellectual or psycho-social disability have prison as their accommodation option.

Judy loves pretty greeting cards, and helps herself to her favourite ones from local shops. She is frequently in trouble with the police, and charged with summary offences. The Magistrate is told of her intellectual disability, yet it is rarely given consideration. She has never been offered a support person in court.

Judy doesn’t comprehend the court process, and acquiesces just to get it over with. She is encouraged to plead guilty when she is overtly unfit to do so.

Judy’s lack of access to appropriate court support programmes are a barrier to justice. They are a social cost to her, and an economic cost to the community.

So how is Judy faring in 2014? Sadly, no better. We have a long way to go to address levels of violence, particularly against women with disabilities, and to ensure all people with disabilities are treated equally before the law. And this applies particularly to Aboriginal people, and people who are culturally or linguistically diverse. That’s why the Commission’s report, which I launched this year, called upon every jurisdiction to implement a disability justice strategy.

My last story is of Amy, a diligent year 11 student in 2014, just like my daughter. She loves English and history, and stands up for what she believes in. As a member of the Deaf community, Amy uses Auslan for her learning.

Amy takes Auslan for granted, and finds it odd that another young student, Jacob Clarke, had to take his ACT school to Court in 2004 to be provided with an Auslan interpreter. So Amy appreciates that many before her have fought for their, and her, rights.

One of them was Sekou Kanneh. A year or two younger than Amy, in 2012 he took his complaint to the Commission for conciliation to level his playing field, or his running track. He’s a champion sprinter, who broke the Queensland record for his age group last year. He, too, is deaf, and just wanted a flashing light when the others got the starting gun. His actions won him, and others like Amy, an equal chance.

Amy enjoys movies with her friends. Thanks to the discrimination complaint of John Byrne, and negotiations with industry which I led, the latest movies are captioned on 230 cinema screens around Australia, so Amy sees the dialogue her friends hear.

This is also true for captions on television, which have increased significantly in the last eight years due to positive use of the Commission’s exemption process. But although I, as a blind person, get audio description in the same cinemas, I am still waiting for it to be more than a short trial on the ABC.

Amy, of course, is a digital native. Her Smartphone, like mine, is never far away. I’m probably live-tweeting this speech right now. You think I’m joking, don’t you?

Apps remove significant barriers for Amy and I. In 2012 Media Access Australia, a not-for-profit social enterprise, launched Access IQ, advocating for media that is accessible for people with disabilities. The site helps those launching video content to include captioning, or to make the content accessible to blind users. SOCOG may have prevented Bruce Maguire from enjoying the full olympic experience in 2000, but the 2012 London games were accessible for all.

So let’s consider the broader picture of significant reforms to the disability rights framework. Transport Standards passed in 2002, while I was Deputy Commissioner.
Access to Premises Standards finally passed in 2009, after significant delays in the Howard era.
Australia ratified the Disability Convention in 2008, which COAG then used as a foundation to a National Disability Strategy in 2011. For a time, our own Professor Ron McCallum AO – senior Australian of the year and a definite disability lifter, chaired the convention expert committee, although sadly we did not put forward another nomination when his term ended recently.
Just last week, Australia signed the Marrakesh copyright treaty, which will help to end the world-wide book famine experienced by people with print disabilities.
The NDIS commenced a year ago yesterday- and we are now paying 0,5 % more Medicare levy to help resource it- the most popular tax in Australia’s history, with support by 78 % of us, but not by Bernie Brooks and his friends. It will represent a seismic shift in choice and control for 500’000 Australians with disabilities.

Thanks to those changes, and a number of DDA cases brought by disability legends, some recorded in the Commission’s Twenty Years, Twenty Stories five-minute film series, of which I am very proud, it’s a different landscape.

So what might the future look like for Elliot, Judy, Amy, Graeme, and many others like us.

Disability is a normal part of the diversity of the human experience, and the life of our community. But it’s not viewed that way. Fuelled by sensationalist journalism such as that of the Daily Telegraph, running front pages comparing slackers AKA Disability Support Pensioners to slouch hats AKA Ausie soldiers, calling us shirkers and rorters, we are demonised and diminished. The pictures of so-called slackers were actually south american backpackers on holiday, and of the 45’000 “slouch hats” who returned to Australia, 20 % experience mental illness. The Tele gets it wrong on so many counts, and trashes the disability brand, but people with disabilities are the ones who pay the price and wear the damage. The Tele pushes us back into the leaners corner, despite our best efforts to leave it.

We see retail chains who think its ok to sell t-shirts with “retarde” across the front, when “nigger” or “slut” would not pass muster. Such language diminishes us, and we are viewed as either victims or heroes, when we should be viewed as agents of our own destiny. The soft bigotry of low expectations limits what we can achieve. Stella Young, who until two days ago was the editor of the ABC’s disability portal Rampup – closed down due to lack of funding by the Abbot government and the ABC – gets it right when she talks of “inspiration porn”. Watch her on TED Talks – now there’s another lifter.

That’s why one of my post-Commission activities will be to chair the board of the newly-established Attitude Foundation, following the New Zealand example of using television, film and the internet to change attitudes about people with disabilities. We need to find $200’000 by September to cover the cost of the first programming on the ABC.

Another indirect consequence of the NDIS, as well as providing us with much more choice and control, is the uniting and strengthening of the disability sector. Once divided and somewhat ineffective, the NDIS campaign has shown the benefits of a united stand, and now “the force is strong in that one”. And it will need to be, to combat the challenges ahead- to contest the “lifters and leaners” paradigm, to continue to challenge the negative and limiting view of disability, to ensure that the NDIS delivers real change, to continue to use the DDA to challenge systemic discrimination, and to lobby for a jobs plan for people with disabilities. The sector can do this, but it will need to ensure that more young leaders are nurtured, that technology, the internet and social media are harnessed, and that the faster political and media cycle are used to our advantage.

Sector participation will also be critical because the role played by the Human Rights Commission is diminished. This is not because I am leaving, but because the resourcing for the Commission has been on a downward slide, in real terms, since the mid 90s, and the capacity to produce continued positive results through the passion and commitment of Commissioners and staff is not sustainable. The Commission will do its best with the hand it is dealt, but that is becoming a weaker and weaker hand. When I began as Deputy Commissioner in 1999, there were four policy staff dedicated to disability issues, and a significant programme budget. The passion and commitment in that team, and what we achieved together, was outstanding. The down-grading of the Disability Discrimination Commissioner’s position, about which my views are well known, will mean that there is only one person in the policy section with significant disability expertise, and she is moving to another role. This reduction in the disability area reflects Commission-wide experience. Another voice to advocate for our move from leaners to lifters has been diminished.

I love this job. It’s the best job I’ve ever had. And, to paraphrase Roy and HG, too much work as a Commissioner is never enough. I still have the passion and the stomach to advocate for the rights of people with disabilities. And I will continue to do so in other roles. What I don’t have is the stomach to advocate for the rights of bigots. So perhaps its time for me to move on.

The position of people with disabilities has improved significantly in Australia in the last few decades. There is still, to quote then NSW Premier Maurice Iema “more to do, but heading in the right direction.”

On the up-side, there has been significant progress in making transport and buildings more accessible. On the down-side, as a community we are failing at finding jobs and delivering equal justice for people with disabilities. As I leave this role, I urge government, the community and the disability sector to commit to more jobs, more equal justice, and a community attitude which celebrates and enhances the contribution of people with disabilities.

Quality of life for Australians with disabilities will continue to improve, and one day we will have another full-time Disability Discrimination Commissioner with lived experience of disability. In the mean time, I’ll follow the dictum of that great human rights advocate Dr Seus, “don’t cry that it’s over. Smile that it happened.”

Thanks for the chance to speak with you today.